There Will Come a Time (22 page)

The dancers, who are sprawled in front of the mirrors on the other side of the room, untangle themselves from each other and are the first to leave. Sebastian and I stay to rework some of the timing with the music, mainly from where the models switch to the dancers. We need to add a couple more measures, and I don't want to be too repetitive.

“How long do we have?” Sebastian asks Pete.

“All night if we need it.” Pete dangles a set of keys. “Mr. Percy told me to lock up when we're done.”

This means we'll be here late. I don't mind. We need the time.

After everyone's eaten, there's more energy in the room. We do more of a stumble-through than an actual dress rehearsal,
but we're at, like, 75 percent. Not bad for the night before a show. I've seen worse, and in my experience, this is how it usually is with live productions, especially when you're doing an original show. It might be different if we were putting on some tried-and-true play, but this production is all new, so there're lots of unpredictables.

Hours later, Pete brings us together for a little pep talk. Pete has led tons of shows and he knows how to pull the best out of people. Everyone listens to him, even after a grueling process, because he's tough but respectful. You know that he's for you. I've worked with other directors who bully their cast and crew. They don't get the same opportunities at the school that Pete does.

“Okay, that was better, much better. Dancers, excellent job, but not all of you are jelling together, especially in the last movement. Brandon, Sebastian, Mark, the music is great. I want to see my models before you leave. I need to make adjustments to some of your costumes, or you'll be giving the audience a different kind of show.”

We laugh.

“We get to run it once more during lunch tomorrow, and then we'll be here to prep for the rest of the day. If any of you need a pass from class, you can see me. I want to thank everyone for working so hard. This is going to be amazing. For those of
us who are seniors, this may be one of our last shows together. Hopefully it'll be memorable. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, Pete!” One of the dancers shouts, and they all rush him in a group hug, which ends up being more of a group tackle. Dancers.

As I'm putting away my bass, Pete says, “Mark, I need you and Sebastian.”

“The sets?” Sebastian asks.

“Bingo.”

I look over at Krysta, who at some point during the evening got off the floor and is painting a cardboard skyscraper. Her shoulders droop, making her look small and sad. She smiles at us weakly.

I text Jenny, asking her if it's okay for me to stay late, appealing to her desire to have attended a school for the arts, as if I'm in one of those high school musical movies and my staying all night will save the show. She just sends me a smiley face and tells me to have fun and text when I'm on my way home.

Lily untangles herself from the dancers and comes over to me. She's in some oversize basketball shorts and a shirt. Her hair is piled all crazy on her head, but she still manages to look cool. “Glad you came back,” she says.

“Me too. Still think I'm a porcupine?” I ask.

“Probably, but a tame one.” She laughs. “We've all got a little porcupine in us.”

“Lily!” Pete gives her a high five. “The dance is amazing. Love, love it.” His expression turns serious. “How do you think it's going? Anything we need to do to be more prepared?”

“It's good. I spoke to those who need to clean their lines, but overall I think this show is going to rock. You guys need some extra help?” She nods at the unfinished sets.

Pete's eyes widen. “Yes, could you?”

“Of course.” She takes out her phone. “Let me call my dad.”

Brandon has his cello in hand. “Sorry, guys, I've got to go. Mom's waiting outside at the curb.”

“No worries,” Pete says. “Get some rest. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” he says.

“I'll walk you out,” Lily says, and I watch her carry his bag so he can maneuver the cello more easily.

Pete tries to round up as many people as he can to finish the sets, but in the end it's only Sebastian, Pete, Lily, Krysta, and me. I'm not much of an artist, but, thankfully, painting these sets is like painting by numbers. Krysta has brushed paint on each section so we know what color to use.

I get a text from Hanna while I'm on the tips of my toes, turning the sky black.

Sunrise hike this Saturday morning? Running out of time

She's right. It's already December. Our original plan had been to go sometime over Thanksgiving break, but I've been so
bogged down with Pete's show and concert practice and schoolwork that there just hasn't been any time.

Yes. When?

Before sunrise, dummy

Ha ha. You coming to the show?

To see you strut the catwalk in tight pants? Of course

I'm not wearing tight pants

Too bad. Later

Later

Hanna should be the one on the runway in the tight pants. She's got the body and the attitude. I scroll up her texts again and smile.

“Who's that?” Pete asks from below, where he's kneeling, painting the bottom of a building.

Sebastian looks over my shoulder before I can get my phone into my pocket.

“Hanna,” he says.

“Hanna,” Pete says, his voice singsongy.

“Who's Hanna?” Krysta asks.

“Mark's love,” Pete says. Pete's teased me about Hanna forever. He wants to know when I'm going to be a man and go for it.

I drip some paint on Pete's head.

“Hey!”

“She's no one,” I say.

“Someone's sensitive,” Pete says.

“Leave him alone. Wasn't that movie horrible in Velazequez's class?” Krysta says, and she and Lily talk about some foreign film they had to watch in their Spanish class.

“Hike this Saturday?” I ask Sebastian, who's busied himself with windows.

“I can't. I have to work. You crazy kids will just have to go without me.” He dips his brush into more gray paint.

“You can't get out of it?” I face him, accidentally dripping some black on the floor.

“Mark!” Krysta says.

“Got it.” I wipe up the spill with a paper towel.

“No. Dad's going to be at our truck in San Diego, so I have to man the LA one.”

“Bummer.” Sebastian's been part of Grace's list from the beginning. He should be there.

“Hiking with Hanna, huh?” Pete asks.

I threaten him with the paint again.

“Okay. Okay. I just find it interesting that you're going hiking. This steps beyond the boundaries of the neighborhood. It could even qualify as a date.”

“It's not like that,” Sebastian says, coming to my rescue. “Can I tell them?”

If Sebastian doesn't say something, Pete will keep teasing.
Now everyone's curious. I'm ready, I think, for others to know. I nod.

He explains Grace's list.

“That's beautiful,” Lily says.

“It's a cool way to honor Grace,” Pete says.

We're quiet for a few moments, painting our designated spots.

“Things could get interesting up on that mountain,” Pete starts in again.
Unbelievable.
“Sunrise. The two of you. All alone. You should have a plan.”

“My plan is to fulfill Grace's list.” I bring it back to Grace, hoping that'll shut him up.

“I'm just a romantic. Krysta, Lily, help me out here.”

“It
is
romantic,” Lily says. “Have you ever talked to her, you know, about your relationship?”

There goes Lily being Lily. Blunt. “We don't have a relationship. We're friends. Good friends. Can't a guy and a girl be friends anymore?” Why does there always have to be pressure to change that? Hanna and I just fit. Sure, we fight and piss each other off sometimes, but we always remain friends.

What I am I supposed to say to her?
Hanna, I think you're cute? Hanna, want to hang out sometime?
I picture her face, and I don't see her swooning into my arms. I imagine her laughing.

We are way past the getting-to-know-you stage, when you
try someone out to see if you want to commit. We are already committed. I don't need to know if we can be something more. For now, less is more.

“We're—what's the word? Platonic?”

Pete groans.

Sebastian and Lily don't answer.

Krysta says, “Let's put it this way. You can be friends, sure. But when a guy and a girl are really good friends, I think there's always a little attraction, even if it's not acted upon.”

I don't acknowledge anything out loud, but I think that's probably true. I am attracted to Hanna, have been forever, but that doesn't mean we should date. Or does it? What would happen? Would the world spontaneously combust if we got together? What if it didn't work out?

“It's complicated, guys,” I say.

This time everyone groans. Lily even flicks some paint up at me.

“Hey! Not by the sets!” Krysta says.

“It's not complicated,” Lily says. “Have a conversation. You'll thank us later.”

“Doubtful. Anyone else? What about
your
dating life?” I ask Lily. I did take note that she's been more attentive to Brandon during practices.

She shrugs. “Possibilities. That's all.”

“Yeah, a possibility named Brandon,” says Pete.

“You are seriously a girl,” Lily says.

“I'm just observant,” he says.

But we're all waiting for her to respond.

“We hang sometimes. That's it.” Then Lily offers up this information: “He's serious and sweet and has great arms. Done. Krysta, your turn.”

“Ugh,” Krysta says. “Talk about dead in the water.”

We listen to Krysta's story about a guy she met over the summer who has suddenly stopped calling her. It's one of those nights when everyone shares a little too much and we'll all probably regret it in the morning. By the time two a.m. comes around, the sets are done. We stand back and examine our work. It's a perfect representation of the downtown skyline.

Sebastian says, “I think we're actually going to pull this off.”

I don't admit it, but I'm glad Pete pushed me to do this. People coming together to create something new is always inspiring. Pete had the vision, and I'm grateful it was big enough to include me.

“Thanks, Pete,” I say.

His hand grips my shoulder.

“You may want to save that until tomorrow.”

“If all else fails,” Krysta says, “at least we'll have amazing sets.”

“And kick-ass dancers!” says Lily.

“And extraordinary musicians,” Sebastian adds.

“With hot models.” Pete says to me, “Just don't trip.”

“Great, no pressure.” I'm already nervous about having to do the catwalk. But I bury that fear, because I want to enjoy the feeling that we might pull off something amazing.

•  •  •  •

The next night, the auditorium is packed. The whole school has come out to support the talent show. Backstage is just as tight. We're divided into sections according to our place in the show. The backstage manager walks from group to group, checking on us, speaking quickly into his headset.

Pete is looking the part of a designer tonight. His long black hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and he's wearing a fitted black vest and jeans with heavy black boots.

I, on the other hand, am wearing something that Pete dubs “fashion forward”—a white mesh hoodie, camouflage tapered pants, and tan work boots with the laces hanging out. It's not bad, except for the fact that you can see my nipples through the mesh and it's kind of cold.

Pete peeks around one of the side curtains to look at the audience and whispers, “You'll never guess who's here.”

“Probably not,” I say.

“Fred Sylvester.”

I shrug.

Pete is incredulous. “He's one of the recruiters from Otis. I'm going to pass out.”

I'm impressed. It'd kind of be like someone from Berklee coming to hear me play. Not that anyone would be here. The school is across the country, and I still haven't applied or sent them an audition video.

Pete grabs me by the shoulders. “This has to be amazing.”

“It will be. Everyone will do their job, and it'll be great.”

Pete motions for our group to huddle up. It's the one time when we get to feel like we're on a sports team. Right before a performance, there's always the huddle. We bend down so our heads almost touch and Pete, who has calmed down and is leading us seriously, says, “Theatre gods, we offer up this piece. We hope you are pleased. Everyone, remember your cues. Have a great time.” He puts his hand in the middle of the circle and we place our hands on top of his.

“On three,” he says. “One. Two. Three.”

“Break a leg,” we say in a strong whisper, trying not to disturb what's going on onstage, which as far as I can tell is some sketch about a guy who is trying to ask a girl out on a first date.

When it's our turn, Sebastian walks out alone onto the stage. He turns on his beat machine and begins a rhythm. As he does, people move pieces of the set onto the stage and start placing the city buildings in the background. Brandon is next. He enters
and picks up his cello and adds long, haunting brushstrokes. It's such a great contrast to what Sebastian's playing.

Next up is me, and I have to say I'm actually nervous, but I ignore it, suck in my gut, and take the stage. I try to remember everything Pete told me to do. You'd think it'd be easy to be a model on a catwalk, but it's more technical than I anticipated. I want to do a good job for Pete, especially with the Otis guy there, so at the end of the runway, I take my time and even pull up my hoodie and put my hands in my pockets. It must look good, because I get a lot of yells and applause. I recognize Jenny's and Hanna's voices and feel the flush coming up my neck. I try to coolly walk over to where my bass is waiting next to Sebastian.